New Chapters
by A. Kingsleigh
Summary: People leave the world, but they also come into it. As the years pass, Manolo, Maria and Joaquin must learn to navigate the new challenges and obstacles in their stories while the next three amigos strive to write their own. Oneshot series encompassing a variety of genres, characters and pairings. Part of the continuity established by "Legends Never Die."
1. Life

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

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><p>San Angel was a town of simple souls. Most of its people had never been more than ten miles away from the house where they were born, and its placement far off the beaten path ensured that visitors from the outside were a rare occurrence indeed. It had to provide for itself in most things, and that included entertainment. Gossip and rumors were quick to fly about the confines of the small island, especially when everyone knew who was being discussed. It was a time-honored tradition to sit at bars or around dinner tables and talk of what had been heard. Yet this was barely enough, for the truth of the news was elusive and its subjects almost always the same.<p>

But every once in a while, something spectacular happened.

Lanterns lit the townsfolk's anxious faces as they crowded around the front of the Casa de Sanchez, where they had been since that afternoon. It was late into the night now, perhaps into the next day, and there was still no word of Maria's condition. They assumed she was still alive, at least - they would have heard by now had something gone wrong.

A scream came from within the house, high-pitched and frantic, and the townsfolk flinched at the sound. _Poor girl,_ they whispered. _The first birth is always hard._

"That isn't going to help," Joaquin said as he and General Posada looked down at the figure they were currently sitting on.

_"Get __**off me!"**_ Manolo yelled, continuing to thrash.

"Only if you promise to stay out here," his father-in-law answered.

He glared at them but nevertheless stopped moving. "Fine."

This satisfied the other two men, who began to stand up. "Now that wasn't so - "

They were thrown to the ground shrieking as Manolo leapt out from under them and ran down the hall towards the room where his wife was being kept. _"Maria!"_

He was nearly to the door when someone tackled him to the ground yet again. "Hey, man, what you wanna go in there for?" Pepe Rodriguez said, trying to sound casual. "It isn't exactly a party."

_We can't keep doing this._ Joaquin looked around the hall for a solution that didn't involve crushing his friend and saw a closet door. "Sorry about this, _amigo._ Pancho, open that up!" Picking Manolo up, he carried the struggling young man to the closet and tossed him inside. The five of them shut the door and held it closed as Manolo repeatedly threw himself at it from the other side.

"Um…how long is this gonna work?" Pablo asked nervously.

"As long as it needs to," Joaquin answered. "Hopefully."

The door on the other side of the hall opened, and Ixa stuck her head out. "Is everything alright?"

"What, with us?" her husband answered. "Oh, yeah! Totally! Never been better!" They all smiled as the closet door rattled again, their expressions exhausted and slightly unhinged.

"We heard shouting," Ixa continued. "She wants to know if Manolo is doing well."

"You can tell her that her son's father has a very colorful vocabulary," General Posada remarked.

"I heard that!"

The old man punched the closet door, eliciting a yelp of shock from within. "All she needs to worry about is herself and that child."

Ixa slowly nodded and shut the door, leaning against it.

"Well?" one of the nuns asked. "What did they say?"

"I do not think this was a very wise idea…"

"Let him in."

All the women's eyes turned to stare at their patient. "Absolutely not," said the midwife. "It wouldn't be proper."

Maria was sitting up in bed, straining from the effort of movement. She was covered in sweat, and she grimaced as she tried to take deep breaths. "I can calm him down," she managed to say. "He'll listen to me."

"But it's almost time - "

"Hurry up, then!" She groaned as another contraction sent her slumping backwards.

Ixa nodded and opened the door, pausing at the strange sight now before her. The men were pushing against the closet door, barely able to keep it closed. "She says he can come in."

"Wait, what?"

The pause was enough for Manolo to shove against the door one last time and send the others tumbling backwards. Rushing past them, he hurried into the room. "Where's Maria?" He saw her a moment later and ran to her side, fearfully looking her over. "Are you alright?"

"Have you been causing trouble out there?" she asked, giving him a dark look.

"I wanted to make sure you were - "

"I'm _fine,_ Manolo," she said. "And so's the baby. They say it won't be long now." She lifted up a hand, and he took it in both of his.

"How do you feel now?" the midwife asked her.

_"Ow…"_

The older woman looked down, and then up again. "I think I see something! Push!"

Gritting her teeth, Maria did as she was told. The pain flared up and dulled once again.

The women gathered around her, talking at once. "The head's crowning! Just a little bit longer!"

She pushed again, and a burning, stinging pain erupted through her as though something was slowly ripping her apart. She gasped, and a strangled cry came with it. Manolo stiffened, and she thought she heard him mumbling a prayer under his breath.

The other men peered in through the open doorway, their eyes wide. Ixa blanched and gagged, staggering away from the bed. "I don't feel well…"

"Not now!" the midwife snapped.

Maria gripped her husband's hand so tightly that she thought it might break. Her head was spinning, and her vision turning spotty. _I can do this,_ she thought as she moaned. _I can do this._

"Did you hear that?" Manolo whispered to her. "Just one more."

With the last of her strength, Maria steeled herself, closed her eyes and pushed.

The pain seemed to burst and subside into a throbbing soreness. She was aware of several things: the women chattering, Ixa vomiting into a bucket of water, the men trying to get into the room, Manolo brushing her hair out of her face and kissing her. Above all, she was aware of the tiny wailing that came from the other side of the room.

She opened her eyes, smiling weakly. "I want to see."

"Just a moment," the midwife said. "We're cleaning her off."

"Out of my way!" General Posada shouted, shoving his way into the room. "Well? Where's the boy?"

"There is no boy, _señor."_

He looked confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you have a granddaughter."

The old man's eyes bugged out. _"Qué?"_

A girl. They had a girl. Maria grinned and gently nudged Manolo. "Guess you're not so crazy now, huh?"

Her husband didn't answer, or even acknowledge her. He simply sat in a daze and watched as the squirming little figure was wrapped in a quilt, carried back to the bed and placed in Maria's arms.

She was still struggling slightly, but her cries subsided once she was with her mother. Her skin was a soft brown like his, and small tufts of dark hair were growing on her head. He couldn't tell which of their eyes she had gotten since they were still closed. _Doesn't matter now. She's safe. They both are._

"Sssshhhh," Maria said, holding the baby close as it cried out a few more times. "It's alright, _mija._ Mama's here." The girl seemed to understand this, because she calmed back down almost at once. Maria then looked to him, lifting the bundle up. "Do you want to hold her?"

Manolo's throat closed up, and all he could do was nod.

"And here's your papa," Maria said to the child as she handed her over. "You know him. He's the one who sings to you."

It was the strangest and yet most logical thing. He had been to Heaven and the realm of the gods, come face to face with those otherworldly beings, seen things no mortal could possibly dream of. Yet this little person was the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes upon.

_"Hola,"_ he choked out, carefully cradling her."I've been waiting a long time to meet you…"

The tears came slowly at first, then steadily as he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead.

All of the women smiled, and even General Posada seemed to soften a bit at the sight. "So, did you have a name in mind?"

"Ofelia," Maria said. "It was his idea."

"Ofelia Sanchez," Ixa mused. "I like it!"

The general rolled his eyes but nodded. "He picked one with a good ring to it, at least."

The nuns shrieked and scattered as Joaquin came running into the room with the Rodriguez brothers on his heels. "I wanna see! I wanna see! Where is she?" When he saw Manolo holding the baby, he squealed. "Hey there, little buddy! I'm your Uncle Joaquin! And you are so_ cute!"_

Hours later, the visitors had all been cleared away and the night was still once more. Maria had fallen asleep not long after the birth. Her breathing was quiet and rhythmic, and a smile was still on her face. Manolo remained awake, sitting in a chair as he held Ofelia. She had begun crying again, and his voice was soft and gentle as he sang a lullaby to her. Before long, she was sleeping once more.

He stared down at her in wonder, a part of him still fearing she would vanish with the morning. "You're safe with me, _mija,"_ he whispered. "Safe and loved, always. I promise." He had fought his way from death back into life for her, even before she was a thought, and he would gladly do so again.

Placing his daughter back into her crib, he sank into his chair and drifted into a dreamless slumber.


	2. Anniversary

**This chapter contains a reference to a headcanon by Tumblr user holyfudgincrackpots. The first of many references, in fact.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

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><p>Manolo could hardly believe it had only been a year.<p>

A year since the worst and best day of his life. When he had died and lived again, discovered worlds he had never imagined, overcome the fear that had plagued him, welcomed his true love into his family.

When he had lost the only two members of that family he'd ever known.

He held his breath as he walked, hoping the light of the candles illuminating the graveyard didn't reflect off the tears he was trying to hold back. Maria walked at his side, Ofelia sleeping in her arms. His guitar was slung over his back, and he was carrying a small basket of marigolds and _pan de muerto._ Nestled beside them were a new set of knitting needles and the roses his mother had always loved tending to. A picture of his father was tucked inside as well, drawn and colored by Maria just for this occasion. He couldn't quite look at it yet.

Carlos and Carmen's grave was near a corner of the graveyard,its carved heart silhouetted against the rising moon. The candles were lit, the flowers and the bread set down and the gifts following. The work was quick, and it was quiet.

Manolo placed the picture of Carlos next to Carmen's before kneeling in front of the grave. "Mama? Papa?" he asked, his voice hardly rising above a whisper."Are you there?"

The candles flickered, as though someone was walking past them.

"You wouldn't believe the year we've had," he continued, smiling. "I hardly can. Maria's doing well. Her father's gotten used to us, I think. Joaquin got married, can you believe that? I've never seen him this happy. You'd love his wife. She's…well, it's a long story."

He paused, waiting. For what, he didn't know. He closed his eyes and tried to sense them, but felt nothing. Couldn't it be easy? Couldn't the gods be merciful and let them truly return for a few hours? _Is that too much to ask?_

"I haven't told you everything yet," he continued after taking a few breaths. "There's…there's someone we'd like you to meet."

Maria knelt besidehim. "This is Ofelia," she said to the grave. "Your _nieta."_

A small gentle breeze seemed to sweep past them, ruffling the baby's black curls. Ofelia opened her dark brown eyes and looked up. She smiled and laughed, waving her small arms in an attempt to touch the multitude of blurry blue shapes floating above her.

Carmen laughed as she let the tiny hand grab her finger. _"Hola, mi querido. _Isn't she lovely, Carlos?"

"She's perfect." Carlos stroked the girl's cheek, then rested an arm around his son. "And you were actually worrying about them, Papa."

"As I should be!" Luis exclaimed. "Now I owe the twins new rifles!"

Adelita and Scardelita snickered. "And you're paying up come sunrise."

_"Cállate!"_ Carmelo snapped at all three of them. "I want to see the girl!"

Jorge peered out from behind him, leaning over Ofelia. "She'll sing," he said proudly. "I feel it in my bones!"

"You are all bones," Anita said, giving the child only a cursory glance before returning to her knitting. "She will do as she wishes."

Manolo blinked back his tears. "I wish you could hold her," he said. "You should be able to hold her…"

Carlos patted his shoulder. "You've done well, _mijo."_

The young man closed his eyes again, then smiled in wonder. "I can feel them. I can feel them, Maria!"

Maria smiled and took him by the hand, resting her head against his arm. The spirits knelt around them both, encircling them in a gentle embrace.

After a time, Manolo rose and took out his guitar. He played a few chords, then let them drift together into a slow, lilting song. His family sat by him, listening intently as the rest of the graveyard seemed to fade away. Only with the first rays of the sun did they all depart.


	3. Jealousy

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

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><p>You were not to trust anything which walked on two legs. All pigs knew this, for it was ingrained within them as soon as they were old enough to think. Chuy supposed he had not been quite old enough for it to fully settle when the incident occurred, which was why Maria had become an exception. Even though he sometimes questioned the company she chose to surround herself with, especially after they had returned to San Angel, there would surely never be a better companion than his human.<p>

But this. This was unacceptable.

It began a month after they had moved into Manolo's house, when she had disappeared with him for a number of days and returned in unusually high spirits. They began decorating a spare room he had enjoyed resting in, placing down some sort of tall wooden cage as its centerpiece. Manolo immediately and firmly forbade him from sitting in Maria's lap from that point on, shooing him away whenever he tried to do so. He looked to his human for a word in his defense, but she seemed to have no objection to it. Something was very out of place, he decided after that, and before long he saw proof.

A lump appeared on Maria's belly, as though something inside her was forcing her to grow outwards. It was small at first, but as the months passed, it expanded until Maria complained that she couldn't even see her own feet. She complained of many things, usually directed at Manolo for some offense that remained vague and unnamed, and the contents of her diet turned downright bizarre. Chuy once brought her a shoe thinking she might enjoy that, only for her to throw it across the room. Eventually she was confined to her bed for much of the day, hardly able to move at all. Was she sick? Was something bad about to happen? He followed Manolo around the house, loudly demanding an answer.

"Everything's going to be alright, Chuy," he said, patting the pig's head. "She'll be fine soon."

That very afternoon, Maria was shut away in her room. The lump seemed to be causing her great pain, for it made Manolo very frightened and many people came to see it. They all stayed deep into the night, forcing Chuy away whenever he tried to see Maria. He sat by the door, waiting and listening in fear until he heard a strange crying coming from within. Once all the visitors had left, he entered to find Maria asleep.

The lump was gone. And in its place, held by Manolo, was…the _thing._

"Her name's Ofelia, Chuy," Maria told him when he was first presented with the thing. "She's our little girl. Isn't she nice?"

It most certainly was not. It was small and ugly and noisy and smelly and not at all like any little girl he had ever seen. His Maria had gone through all that trouble for the sake of this? It wasn't worth it, not at all. She and Manolo didn't seem to see it that way, though. In fact, there was hardly a moment when they were not fawning over the creature. The love they gave him was reduced to little more than meals and scratches behind the ears. He took to glaring at the terrible thing whenever he came across it, baring his teeth and growling.

"Be nice, Chuy!" Maria told him when she caught him at it one day. "She's not going anywhere, and neither are you."

Under no circumstances was he going to live under the same roof as that little monster. What did they think was so special about it, anyway? Whatever it was, he couldn't see it.

And then came the day when Maria left the door to its room ajar.

At first Chuy had thought it was simply an absent-minded accident. Then again, it was just as possible that she might have done it knowing the pig would stick his head through the doorway. He had wondered what exactly they had done with the room, what needs the creature had which required such a large space. Maria and Manolo were at the other end of the hall, working in their studio. He could be in and out of the room, and they would never know. A small look couldn't hurt.

Pushing the door open with his snout, he trotted inside.

The walls, once white, had been painted a pale yellow. On them hung several of Maria's sketches and paintings in simple frames. There was a rocking chair in one corner, a rectangular table in another, a dresser against one wall and a chest sitting next to it. And up against the wall, underneath the window, was the wooden cage with its prisoner thankfully trapped inside.

Chuy slowly approached the bars and looked through them, eyes narrowing. The thing was asleep, fidgeting a bit as it clutched a stuffed cloth pig that was somewhat too large for it. Just the sight of the thing made him angry. Growling at it, he began to turn away.

Then he stopped. It was stirring now, and as he continued to stare, it opened its eyes.

At first it didn't acknowledge him. It blinked slowly a few times, as though confused, and then became more alert. It began to warble and squawk at him in its strange way of speaking, flopping out a chubby arm to point in his direction.

If this was its way of trying to lure him in like it had done with his human, then he wasn't going to fall for it. Planting his feet, Chuy bleated at the creature as loudly as he could. _"Bleh!"_

The creature jerked, startled at the sound. Its eyes grew wide, and for a moment, Chuy thought he had put the thing in its place. But then its mouth opened in a toothless smile, and it began to laugh.

Now it was Chuy's turn to back away in wasn't it frightened of him? What was it trying to do? He looked closer, searching for a clue.

The longer he stared at the thing, the more he noticed, and the more he noticed, the more fascinated he became. He had never noticed the bits and pieces of Maria it contained: in the shape of its face, the point of its nose, the curls of its hair and the curve of its smile. There were bits of Manolo as well, glimmers of goodwill and innocence in its large brown eyes.

Now it was trying to push the stuffed pig through the bars of its cage, as though trying to show it to him. An act of curiosity and friendship, perhaps. Chuy could see why Maria and Manolo cared for this little creature - he himself was finding it more pleasant to be around.

The toy pig slipped through the bars and fell to the floor, out of Ofelia's reach. She yelped in distress as it disappeared from view, then began to cry. The noise alarmed Chuy, but not for the reasons it had before. _Don't be sad! I can make it better! Watch!_

Manolo stopped playing the middle of a note as he heard Ofelia's cries, and Maria froze with her pencil hovering just above her sketchpad. Another moment, and they had leapt up from their seats and were hurrying down the they reached the doorway, however, they stopped and stared. Maria took a few steps forward, blinking to assure herself she wasn't seeing things. "Chuy?"

He had the stuffed pig in his mouth and was trying to force it back through the bars of the crib. Ofelia began to quiet down at the sight of her toy, warbling softly as she tried to grab it.

Maria smiled. "Need some help?" Taking the pig from Chuy, she reached into the crib and returned it to her daughter.

Ofelia laughed as she wrapped her arms around the doll. Then she let it fall to the side and began trying to stick her hands through the bars once more, trying to touch Chuy. Finding his snout, she pushed against it. The pig recoiled a bit, but then gently pushed back against her hand. "Bleh."

Maria scratched behind his ears. "Glad to see you've changed your tune," she said as she lifted the giggling Ofelia out the crib. "Maybe you can two can play after we feed her." She began to walk out of the room, and Chuy trotted behind her, his eyes still on the girl.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Manolo asked.

"Very," she answered with a smile. It was about time that both her children were happy.


	4. Two

**Joaquin/Ixa romance with a few dashes of angst. Also a bit of Manolo/Joaquin friendship.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

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><p>It was just over three months into her marriage, in the midst of the <em>Navidad<em> festivities, when Ixa suddenly became quite ill. There was no fever, no gradual onset: one afternoon she simply grew pale, excused herself and hurried upstairs to hack up the remains of her breakfast. Then it happened again the next day, and again a few days after that. Soon she began to look more tired and complained of a lightness to her head.

"What do you think is wrong?" Maria asked, holding the other woman's hair back as she leaned over the toilet.

"I know not!" Ixa groaned as she gagged at the taste of the vomit. "I have done nothing out of the ordinary, I swear."

"And it just came out of nowhere?"

She nodded. "It is very strange."

Maria gently wiped Ixa's face with a damp cloth, contemplating her as she did so. "Can I ask you something?" she finally said.

"What?"

"When was your last period?"

"October," she answered innocently.

"But not last month."

Ixa shook her head. "I was rather pleased, actually."

"Does Joaquin know about that?"

"I thought little of it." A faint look of alarm crossed her face. "Should I have told him?"

"You might have more than that to tell him in a bit," Maria answered. "But first we ought to let the doctor have a look at you."

She had suspected the cause of the ailments before that point, remembering how terrible she herself had often felt in those first few weeks. Still, it was something else entirely to hear the words she had been thinking come from the doctor's mouth: "You are pregnant,_señora."_

"I thought you'd be more excited," she said to Ixa as they walked back home. "Or more freaked out. One of the two."

Ixa had not said a word since hearing the news. She was staring at the ground with wide eyes, a hand resting lightly on her abdomen."There is a child," she said, as though trying to convince herself it was true. "In here."

Maria nodded. "Yes."

"And it shall grow as yours did."

"With luck."

_A child,_ she repeated to herself. _**My**__ child, and Joaquin's._

It was finally more than a mere dream, and it brought a grin to her face. A spring found its way into her step as she walked faster and then began to run, all the way back to her house.

Joaquin was in the parlor talking to Manolo when she came back. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking up as she walked towards him. "What did they - "

He felt the air fly from his lungs and stumbled backwards as she threw her arms around him.

Ixa looked up into his face, her eyes shining. "We're going to have a child."

His mind cracked and fell apart, and he was at once elated and horrified at the possibility that he had heard her right. "…What?"

"We're going to have a child!" she repeated, taking one of his hands and placing it on her stomach. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"That's…that's…"

He thought he felt Manolo slap a hand on his shoulder and congratulate him, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't aware of much at the moment. Mostly just the floorboards that were quickly rushing up to meet his face.

When he woke a few minutes later, he found himself lying on the sofa. Ixa, Manolo and Maria were all leaning over him, concern written on their faces. "What happened?"

"You fainted," said Maria, who sounded unsurprised.

Ixa sat next to him, biting her lip. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," he said as he sat up. "I just…" He looked at her guilty expression, how she was lacing and unlacing her fingers as she did when she was nervous. "Is it true?"

"I would not lie of such a thing."

Swallowing his own fear, he tried to quell hers. "That," he said as he pulled her into his arms, "is _amazing."_

Ixa perked up. "Do you really think so?"

"I _know_ so," he answered. "Although I'm a little surprised you aren't more worried."

She frowned. "Why do you all keep saying that?"

"I remember how you were when Maria had Ofelia. No offense."

"I know what will happen this time!" she said, folding her arms. "And besides, Maria is happy now. How bad can it possibly be?"

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><p>One could hear the screams from the churchyard. Outside of Casa de Mondragon, the townsfolk traded frantic looks and whispers as they waited for news. Inside, servants ran through the halls and to and from the bedroom, where only a few people were being admitted. Señora Sanchez's orders.<p>

"Get more water!" Maria commanded, trying to make herself heard above all the noise. "And some towels!"

She returned to Ixa's side, where the midwife was wiping streams of sweat off the frantic woman's brow. "How are you doing?"

"Get it out! _Get it out!"_

Maria sighed. "Yeah, I know."

Her husband cautiously stuck his head through the doorway, his eyes bugging out at the pandemonium before him. "Joaquin's gone off. Should I try to - "

"Out!" Maria practically yelled, shooing him back into the hallway.

"Sorry." He plastered himself against the wall, trying to stay clear of the confusion.

Ofelia squirmed in his arms and began to cry again. "Hush, _mija,"_ he said, readjusting her. "Mama will be back soon. I know you don't like this. Neither do I." Maria wouldn't have been so frustrated if everything had been going as it should.

His wife, being the only person who could keep Ixa's hysteria at a manageable level, was stuck helping with the birth and had left Ofelia with him. Several of the servants had offered to take the girl off his hands, but she screamed herself hoarse whenever she left her father's arms. It was best if she stayed with him, he finally said.

Kissing the side of her head to calm her, Manolo began to walk down the hall. "Come on. Let's go find your uncle."

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><p>He was on the other end of the house, leaning against the railing of a small balcony that overlooked the narrow alley below. In his hand was a lit cigar, its tip glowing red in the darkening night. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke rise into the sky and mingle with the gathering storm clouds.<p>

"I suppose you can hear all that."

Joaquin put out the cigar as his friend joined him on the balcony. "Yeah," he answered, not looking up.

Another scream echoed through the halls, along with a stream of what sounded like curses in an indecipherable language. They both flinched at the sound, and Ofelia whimpered.

"She'll be fine," Manolo said, his voice wavering a bit. "She has Maria looking out for her. Besides, she's strong. She'll put up a fight."

Joaquin nodded. "Mmm."

"Then why are you scared all of a sudden?"

He chuckled, although there was no joy in it. "I've been scared ever since she told me."

"What's there to be scared about?"

Joaquin whirled around. "I'm going to be a _dad,_ Manny!"

"Yes. And?"

"And? Isn't it obvious? I can't be a dad!" He started to pace back and forth. "I-I don't know anything about it! I never had a dad, you know that. At least not a good one."

"That doesn't mean you'll be like them."

"We don't know that!" He stopped. "All I know is that I can't mess this up. I _can't."_

Manolo was quiet for a few moments, looking at him sadly. "But you do love them."

"Yes."

"And you'll care for them no matter what."

"Of course."

His friend smiled. "That's the most important part, you know."

He turned away, looking at the ground.

"And you know what else?" Manolo said. "Watch this." He held out Ofelia, motioning for Joaquin to take her. He did so, with shaking hands. The girl did not protest, instead burrowing against his shoulder.

"See? She likes you," her father continued. "You're already the perfect _tío, _Joaquin. And you'll be just as good a papa."

Some of the tension drained from Joaquin's body, just enough for him to smile. "Thanks, Manny."

Ixa screamed again, louder than the last few times. When she stopped, the bustle of the others did as well. For a minute or so, the whole house was silent.

The blood slowly drained from Joaquin's face._ Is she…?_

And then she screamed again.

It all went on for another half hour, loud and more frenzied than ever. Manolo had to drag Joaquin into the sitting room, keep him distracted with Ofelia and stories about Plata and medals. It was barely enough, and as soon as the noise subsided once again, Joaquin was on his feet and headed for the door. "Ixa!"

He opened the door and found himself face to face with Maria. The woman looked terrible: her hair was unkempt, there were bags under her eyes and she was cleaning her hands with a blood-stained cloth.

Joaquin's eyes widened as he saw it. "W-What does that mean?"

She sighed. "There's no easy way to tell you this."

Manolo saw the other man starting to tremble and gently put a hand on his shoulder. "Tell him what?"

"Two things, actually. One, I wouldn't go near your wife for a while. You've lost enough body parts already. And two…" She laughed a bit. "How many names were you thinking about?"

"A few."

"Boys and girls?"

"Yeah. Wait, what does that have to do with anything?"

"You'll need one for each."

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><p>Ixa lay in bed, her eyes turned towards the ceiling as she whimpered softly.<em> I do not wish to do this again.<em>

She heard the sound of a small being crying, and then it was joined by another. She tried to sit up, but her arms had no more strength. "Where are they…?"

"Here." Maria helped her up, placing a few more pillows behind her back. "A boy and a girl. You should be proud."

As her eyes refocused, Ixa saw that Manolo was holding one of the babies. Joaquin was holding the other, struggling to keep them in his arms as the little being squirmed and yelped. The children's skin was a light brown, and tufts of brunette were already growing on their heads. Their eyes were already open, revealing light blue the same shade as hers laced with threads of green.

"Easy there, little guy," Joaquin said to the boy, blinking back tears. "It's just me." He looked up, into his wife's face. "Um…hi."

She merely smiled, her angry having drained away at the sight of him holding their son. "Hello."

"So what are their names?" Manolo asked, playing with the boy.

"This one's Vicente," Joaquin answered. "We knew that already."

"She'll need one, too," Maria said as the girl was handed to Ixa.

Joaquin looked to his wife. "Well?"

Ixa looked into the girl's eyes, thinking of the names they had discussed. A number ran through her mind, but only one stood out. "Gabriela."

Her husband sat beside her, one arm around her shoulder and Vicente cradled in the other. "I like that - "

_ CRASH!_

The whole room jumped as thunder burst outside, sending torrents of rain down in an instant. A cold wind blew against the windows, forcing them open. A dozen angry voices seemed to shriek with rage at the same time.

Ixa gasped and clutched Gabriela to her chest. "Joaquin…!"

Leaping up, Joaquin handed Vicente to her before running to the window. Grabbing the shutters, he forced them back together and latched them. "It's okay," he said. "Just a storm."

"No." She was shaking her head as frightened tears dripped down her face. "Father is angry."

Manolo and Maria froze, their eyes growing wide. Joaquin looked to them, then back to his wife. His face hardened as he sat next to her once more, looking down at the children.

"Well," he finally said, "that's his problem."


	5. Playdate

**Friendship/humor focused on Ofelia, Vicente and Gabriela.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

><p>The dark brown eyes stared at the two pairs of greenish-blue ones. They all blinked once and then again, heads slowly cocking back and forth. The sight before them was strange, the children thought, too strange to put aside apprehension.<p>

Ofelia was the one to make the first move. She began to make an attempt at scrambling backwards, seeking her parents' arms. Instead she found Chuy's snout, which pushed her back towards the twins. "It's alright, _mija,"_ she heard her mother say. "They aren't going to hurt you."

Vicente and Gabriela recoiled from the much larger child, looking up at their parents while babbling as though annoyed. "Go on," Joaquin told them gently as he motioned them forward. "Just for a little bit."

It had been Manolo's idea for Joaquin and Ixa to bring the twins over to meet Ofelia once they were old enough to play. It would do all three of them good: Vicente and Gabriela could begin learning, while Ofelia still froze up around others at nearly a year. Perhaps they might even get along afterwards.

Now here they were after six months, and Manolo was beginning to think that perhaps it really was possible to be too optimistic.

He got up from his chair and moved to the floor, trying to get at eye level with his daughter. "These are your cousins, Ofelia," he said with a smile. "They've come to say _hola_ to you. Why don't you go meet them?"

Ofelia stiffened as she continued to stare at the twins. Most days she babbled to herself and her family, but now she was as quiet as a grave. Her eyes grew wider as she curled up, bowing her head and burying her face in her toy pig.

"At least give them a chance," Manolo said, petting her hair to try and coax her out. "They would love to play with you! See?"

Vicente yawned as his eyes half closed, and he flopped onto his side. His sister babbled softly as she stared at Ofelia, her expression a distinct mix of confusion and revulsion.

"Are you still sure about this?" Ixa asked as she looked over the scene.

Manolo sighed. "No…"

Gabriela's incoherent speech grew louder. Falling forward, she began to drag herself forward in a sort of awkward crawl. She sat up when she reached Ofelia, waving her arms and warbling to get the older girl's attention. Ofelia did not budge, even seeming to curl up more.

Gabriela went quiet as she noticed the pig. She scrunched up her face once again, then looked back around and began to wave her arms in her brother's direction.

Vicente had brought one of his toys, a little cloth horse made to look like Plata. Gabriela began to crawl towards it, reaching out to snatch it away. The boy squawked angrily and tried to protect the boy, but he wasn't fast enough. Gabriela grabbed it and started pushing it across the floor towards Ofelia.

Hearing the noise, Ofelia slowly lifted her head up. Her fascination grew bit by bit as she watched Gabriela sit in front of her, holding the horse and trying to bump it against the pig. When she pushed back with her own toy, the other girl giggled. She giggled as well, fully unfurling from her ball.

The four adults smiled as they watched the girls play. Their eyes briefly darted away from Vicente, who was now scowling over the loss of his toy. He began to crawl forward, his chubby hands reaching for the horse. When he caught sight of Ofelia's shiny curls, however, he stopped. This was a much nicer toy! Approaching the girl, he grabbed a chunk of her hair and yanked at it.

Ofelia yelped and scrambled away from him. Gabriela began to warble at him angrily before pushing him. He pushed back, and in a few seconds they were attacking one another with light shoves and slaps. Ofelia stared at them in shock before laughing and joining in, trying to push Vicente over with her pig.

Maria was out of her chair in an instant. "Stop that!" She and Ixa grabbed the children, pulling them off the floor and away from each other.

The trio immediately began squirming in their mothers' arms, yelping in protest. Ixa lost her grip on the twins and let them slip back to the floor. They began to crawl towards Maria and Ofelia, smiling up at their new friend. Ofelia smiled back, babbling as she reached for them.

Maria looked at Manolo, who hesitated a moment but then nodded. "Play nice," she told her daughter as she set her back down.

Ofelia pushed the horse back towards Vicente before reclaiming her pig. They both laughed as they waved the toys around and swung them at each other. Gabriela sat near them, grinning as though pleased at her handiwork.

Joaquin laughed as he shook his head in amazement. "Reminds you of some other kids, doesn't it, Manny?"

Manolo looked at him and at Maria, a small, pensive smile on his face. "Yeah…"


	6. The Things We Do

**Humor and some fluff featuring Joaquin and Ixa.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

><p>The day began like most of Joaquin's days did: perfectly. The love of his life was at his side when he awoke, and his children were in the next room. He and Ixa rose, dressed, woke the twins and brought them downstairs for breakfast. Joaquin helped feed them, humming to himself as he did so. They were much better at crawling now, and it was his habit to set them on the floor and chase them around the parlor.<p>

"They're expecting you at the barracks, you know," Ixa told him as she went back upstairs, Gabriela trying to follow her.

"Alright, alright," he said, picking Vicente off him as he stood up. "Sorry, little guys. Gotta go. Be good to your mom." There would be time to enjoy their company later.

If only he could find the rest of his uniform.

"Ixa?" he called out. She wasn't in their bedroom, nor was she in the sitting room or the garden. As he was walking down the hall, however, he saw a seldom-opened door standing ajar. He couldn't recall much about the room, only his mother using it to store things which didn't seem to belong anywhere else. _What is she doing in there?_

"Sweetie?" Joaquin asked as he pushed the door open. "Are you in here?"

She appeared from behind a stack of boxes, carrying what looked like a pile of pastel lace in her hands and looking very pleased with herself. "Come see what I found!"

"Actually, I was just wondering if you knew where my jacket was…"

He hadn't paid much attention to what his wife was holding at first. Now, as he saw exactly what it was, his words lodged in his throat and the blood drained from his face. "…Where did you find those?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Ixa smiled obliviously as she held up the two porcelain dolls. "In here! Can you believe your mother just packed them all away like this?"

"What do you mean, 'all'?"

"Why, there must be enough to fill a whole shelf. Many shelves!"

He remembered now. The collection of those little monsters which his mother had amassed, enough to fill an entire wall. The endless nightmares it had given him. How he had been able to suppress their memory when she had finally packed them away, deciding for some unfathomable reason not to take them back to Mexico City. "Uh…"

Ixa was lining them up now, already having found at least ten. "Are they not pretty?"

Joaquin stared at them, and they stared back. Their complexions were like corpses, their eyes dead and glassy and their painted-on smiles smug. _Oh, yes,_ they seemed to be thinking. _We've got her. And now we're coming for you._

"Well?" Ixa asked.

"…I guess they're alright…"

"But can I keep them?"

"You want to _what?"_

"They ought not to be kept in here," she said, stroking the hair of one. "Perhaps Gabriela would like one when she's older!"

"I-I don't know if - "

He looked at her and immediately regretted it, for his objections withered at the sight of her face. She wore a broad grin, proud of her find, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. She didn't even realize what she was doing, which made it even more infuriating and impossible to fight.

"…Sure, we can keep them."

Ixa rushed forward and hugged him, briefly knocking him off-balance. "Oh, thank you! Where do you think would be a good place for them? Our room, maybe?"

"L-Let's not do that! I mean, then we'd be the only ones who get to see them."

She considered this for a moment and then nodded. "How about the parlor, then?"

"Sounds perfect."

Ixa kissed him on the cheek and skipped out of the room, leaving him to lean against the wall and sigh. "What did I just_ do…?"_

_Well, _he thought, _it can't be all bad if it makes her happy._

He didn't normally spend that much time in the parlor, anyway.


	7. Picture

**Fluffy parent/child bonding with Manolo, Maria and Ofelia.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

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><p>Maria rarely painted scenes of life.<p>

Sometimes it was the buildings and hills, what she could see from her windows. Other times it was what she remembered of Spain, working from photographs she had brought back. Usually she would find objects from around the house and arrange them in a scene to capture. But there were no animals in her sketchbook, nor people. She had tried painting Chuy once, only to end up chasing him around the room and spend an hour cleaning up the paint tracks.

"You ought to use a model," her classmates and teachers at the convent told her. "Far easier."

Models weren't _real,_ though. She didn't want to paint people who sat and stared at her with dull expressions, she wanted to show the world as she saw it every day, the little moments which made up a person's story.

She still couldn't find the right moment, though. It was always either too far away or too close, or it was gone before she could pin it down. Her mind and her tools wandered, turning to focus on other things.

When Manolo learned that she painted and drew, he immediately offered up half of the music room for her to work as she pleased, a deal she accepted. On one side of the room she had her easel, her canvases, her cups of paint and rows of pencils and brushes. On the other side were his chair and stand for sheet music, where he sketched out melodies as he composed or took notes as he gave lessons to the children of San Angel. Wadded-up ideas from them both lay strewn across the floor.

Things had changed with the arrival of Ofelia. No longer could they throw themselves into their work completely. An ear had to be kept out, mindful of the baby's cries whenever they began. Then she grew, and it was no longer enough to simply listen for neediness or mischief. When she began to crawl in earnest, they moved her into the work room with them during the day. She didn't seem to mind the sudden change one bit: she had a basket of toys to play with, as well as Chuy, her parents always in plain sight and - her favorite part - a wide, open space to roam about as she wished.

The day had been slow, and now it was dragging its knuckles through the last few hours of the afternoon. Maria sat with her chair tipped back, idly tapping her pencil on the blank page of her sketchbook. She tried a few shapes and scribbles hoping to make something of them, only to erase it all a few seconds later. Eventually she tore it out, wadded it up and tossed it aside. Manolo was scribbling on a piece of paper as well, tweaking a new melody as he tested it again and again. His brows were deeply furrowed, and he rarely looked up from his work.

At the sound of a soft _thump_ from the corner of the room, Maria turned her head. Ofelia was plodding across the floor, slipping on the polished boards. She babbled quietly as she approached her father, sitting next to his leg and wrapping her arms around it as she looked up.

Manolo blinked and frowned, his focus drawn away by the sudden touch. When he looked down, however, he smiled and ruffled his daughter's hair.

Maria watched them for a moment, then went back to her own work. A seconds later, though, she looked up again when she heard Manolo playing a tune she hadn't heard before.

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, laughing as Ofelia tried clambering into his lap. He helped her up before continuing to play. His fingers nimbly and swiftly plucked the guitar strings, as though he'd wanted to practice this one to perfection before letting it be heard. He looked at his daughter as he sang, telling a tale of a sweet young princess who was loved by all who encountered her. Ofelia smiled and gurgled, waving her arms and legs as she listened to the music.

Maria set her tools aside and rested her chin in her hand, soaking in the image. Then a jolt ran through her mind, making her grab her pencil and sketchbook again. _I don't want to forget this._ She worked quickly, eyes darting between the page and the scene before her as she formed shapes with careful strokes. Soon she had a simple, blocky picture in her hand.

Manolo looked up as he finished the song and blushed when he saw what she was doing. "It's just something I thought she would like..."

"I'd say it worked, then."

She stayed up late that night, adding details and colors to the sketch. For a time she toyed with idea of painting and framing it. _No, _she thought. _Not this one. _So she carefully tore it out of the sketchbook and tucked it in the drawer of her bedside table.

It grew wrinkled and worn over the years as she took it out again and again, when she was too happy to sit still or could barely see through her tears. She would stare at it, run a finger along the lines or just hold it to her chest. She never named it, at least not properly. She simply scribbled two words on the back of the paper: _Thank You._


	8. First Word

**More cute stuff with Manolo and Ofelia, only this time it's a little sillier.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

><p>"Papa."<p>

Ofelia gave no response, other than a questioning blink.

_"Pa-pa,"_ Manolo repeated, carefully sounding out the two syllables as he pointed to himself. "Can you say that, _mija?"_

"Aaaaaa."

"Well, that's a start."

The girl's second birthday was fast approaching, and Manolo had made it his mission to guide her incessant chatter into something intelligible before that day came. All day he had sat in the nursery chair with Ofelia in his lap, fruitlessly sounding out every word he could think of in the hopes that she would repeat one of them.

"She'll start when she's ready," Maria told him. "Don't rush her."

"I'm not rushing her! I'm just...making some suggestions, that's all."

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "You just want to hear her say 'Papa' first, don't you?"

"It doesn't have to be first." Not that he would complain if it was. All he wanted was to be there when she said it, whatever it happened to be.

At the moment, however, it didn't appear as though she was going to say much of anything.

"How about Mama?" Manolo said, pointing at a self-portrait Maria had drawn in the sketchbook on his lap. _"Ma-ma._ Can you say Ma-ma?"

Ofelia climbed across his lap, peering towards the picture until her face was nearly against it. "Mmmm."

_"Muy bien!_ Can you say the rest?"

"Mmmm." She flopped over and dissolved into a fit of happy giggles.

Once Manolo had managed to calm her down, he sat her in his lap again and started to flip through the sketchbook. Maria had drawn a number of pictures for him to use. Could she say_ árbol?_ _Cabra,_ perhaps? How about _toro? _Each time Ofelia either laughed, gave him a blank stare or squinted at the pictures.

"You're having fun with this, aren't you?" Manolo said as he finally set the book aside.

Ofelia leaned her head against his torso and drooled on his shirt.

"At least one of us is..."

He moved, waking the pig slumbering at his feet. Chuy yawned and stretched, looking up at his two humans with accusing eyes. Ofelia laughed and reached towards him.

"Can you say 'pig'?" Manolo said as he set her down. _"Cerdo?"_

But she was no longer listening, instead trying to get Chuy's attention away from whatever he currently had in his mouth. Said thing being one of Manolo's shoes.

"Chuy!" He snatched it away, trying to wipe off the drool. "No. We talked about this."

_"Cerdo_ no!"

"See?" he continued, nodding smugly. "Ofelia thinks you..." He stopped as the words sank in. "...What?"

_"Cerdo_ no!" Ofelia repeated, giggling as she tried to climb on Chuy's back.

Her father stared at her for several more seconds, then leapt to his feet and raced down the hall. _"Maria!"_


	9. A Meeting

**A humorous/fluffy piece with La Muerte, Xibalba and Ofelia.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

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><p>The tar oozed across the cemetery ground like a snake, barely thicker than water. The celebrating people could not see it, but only sense a cool breeze as it slithered through their midst. It was tempered by the warm wind from the flowing stream of marigold petals that zipped and slid through the air.<p>

When they reached a clearing in the middle of the graves, the invisible beings both stopped and took a moment to congeal into their proper forms.

Xibalba flexed his wings, wincing as he heard a light _snap._ "Much better," he muttered, taking out his staff. "This won't be long, will it, dear?"

La Muerte was already gliding through the cemetery, smiling down at the mortals and spirits. "You've always been so impatient."

"When was the last time anything happened here? Three years? Four?"

"Exactly," his wife answered. "I'd almost say it's overdue."

"Then the mortals will take care of it." He chased after her, smirking. "Come, Muertita. Wouldn't you rather celebrate the Day of the Dead _our_ way?"

She smirked back and gently pushed his hand aside. "There's plenty of ways to celebrate, Xibalba."

Some movement near the largest tomb caught her eye, and she smiled. Xibalba skeptically followed her gaze. Beneath the old captain's statue sat Joaquin, with a woman at his side. _Tlaloc's spawn,_ the god realized.

His hand lay over hers, and her head rested on his shoulder. At their feet, a boy and girl barely out of swaddling clothes were playing tug-of-war over a piece of _pan de muerto._

"Hey, kids," Joaquin said with a laugh as he tried to pull them apart. "That's for your grandpa."

Gabriela finally wrenched the bread away from Vicente, who tumbled over and immediately began to wail at the indignity. Giggling, she bashed her prize on the ground, and when nothing came of it, she tossed it aside. It sailed several feet and struck Xibalba right in the face.

He scowled as he wiped it off. _Disgusting._ "It was such a lovely time when water hags weren't able to breed."

La Muerte rolled her eyes. "And the rest of us were so much better at that age."

"Refresh my memory, _mi amor._ What exactly are the positives of children, again?" She didn't answer. "La Muerte?"

The goddess was moving off towards the corner of the graveyard. Her eyes were wide, and the candles lining the hem of her dress flickered a little brighter as she walked. She placed a hand on her chest as she approached the grave she was looking at. "Oh, Balby…"

Xibalba looked. He understood, and yet he didn't.

The Sanchez ancestors were happily clustered around their living relatives. Manolo and Maria sat next to the grave and talked to it as they looked at the sky. Carlos and Carmen sat next to them, unseen but still smiling and nodding at their every word. What caught Xibalba's eye, however, was the small, dark-haired girl in a yellow dress who sat in the younger man's lap.

Manolo laughed as Ofelia reached for the guitar at his feet, pulling the strings. "You're not quite old enough for that, _mija._ Should I play it?"

She grinned and clapped her hands. "Papa!"

"As you wish," he said as he gently set her down.

Xibalba looked askance at it all. "Well, that's nice, now off we go!"

"Really, Xibalba, am I the only thing you think about?"

"I just fail to see how this concerns us, that's all."

"Maria and that girl wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

"I suppose not." Although one could say he had grown tolerant of the young Sanchez, the god still wasn't particularly keen on the idea of more humans with his face and hair and opinion of authority. "Wait ten years and then tell me how cute you think she is, boy…"

He felt something tug at the edge of his robe and looked down. There stood the Sanchez girl, smiling up at him. He rolled his eyes and looked away, then suddenly looked back down in astonishment. "Why didn't you tell me I wasn't invisible?"

"We are," La Muerte answered, looking just as confused.

"Then why can she see us?"

They both looked down at Ofelia, who hadn't budged. Wonder and delight was written on the girl's face as she stared at the two strange figures.

"Go away," Xibalba said, trying to shoo her back towards her family. "Move along, nothing to see here."

She merely sat down in front of him, looking up expectantly.

"Very well, Plan B." Xibalba sharpened his teeth, turned his pupils forward and spread out his wings, then knelt in front of the girl and loudly hissed in her face.

Ofelia yelped and recoiled, and for a moment, it appeared as though she might flee. Then she stood up again, giggling and clapping.

_You have **got** to be kidding me._ "Well, your parents can have fun with you, little one," he said. "I'll have no part of it."

Folding his wings, he turned on his heel and swept off.

He was walking through a forgotten corner of the graveyard when he heard it. The light tread of small, curious feet as they ventured where they shouldn't.

"You have quite a lot of your father in you," Xibalba said as he turned around to face the girl. "I'm very sorry."

She came closer and touched one of his staff's heads, running her hand over the purple scales. Then she approached the god himself and tried to put her arms around him, paying no heed to the tar-soaked rags.

_"Land of the Cursed,_ child, what do you _want?"_ he snapped.

"Up."

"Absolutely not."

"Up, up!" she repeated, waving her arms.

Xibalba looked around, hoping there was no one - mainly his wife - around to witness this. Tentatively kneeling down, he scooped Ofelia up in his hands. "Just so you know, I don't have a very good track record with children or Sanchezes…"

She felt the leather of his gloves and the ridges of his armor, then ran her hands through his mustache and down his beard.

He squirmed at the touch. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't - _ow!" _He nearly dropped the girl as she grabbed his beard and tugged at it. "You see? This is what I'm talking about."

The last voice he wanted to hear at that moment laughed behind him. "Having fun,_ mi amor?"_

"Great._ Just_ great."

La Muerte wrapped her arms around him as she looked down at the girl. "Children don't usually grow on you so quickly, Balby."

"Bawbi," Ofelia repeated as she pulled the god's beard again.

"You don't get to call me that."

La Muerte took the girl from her husband and held her close. Ofelia's eyes grew even wider as she took in the bright colors and crystalline skin. "It's very lovely, isn't it?" the goddess said. "But not as lovely as you, _mi querido."_

When she brushed a strand of Ofelia's hair aside, something caught her eye. Two marks on the side of her head, just under her left ear. The discolored spots were distinctly shaped like skulls, and together they seemed to form a heart.

_Strange,_ she thought to herself. _Very strange._

A voice floated towards them from another part of the graveyard. "Ofelia…!"

La Muerte kissed the girl's forehead. "Come along. Your mama and papa are looking for you."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you haven't seen her, Joaquin?" Manolo and Maria asked their friend for the third time.<p>

"No, but I can ask around."

Manolo started to pace back and forth. "Alright. She can't have wandered off too far…"

"Is this little one yours, by any chance?"

He turned around. Approaching the grave was a small, old woman in a shawl with a bearded, wizened man at her side. Ofelia was in her arms, squirming and reaching out to her parents when she saw them.

"We happened upon her," the woman continued as she handed the girl to Manolo. "Thought someone might be worried about her."

He smiled._ "Gracias."_

The man patted Ofelia's cheek. "You stay out of trouble now. Let's not cause your papa any more trouble."

Manolo handed her to Maria. "We should get you to bed, _mija."_

"Bawbi!" the girl repeated. "Bawbi!"

He froze, then turned back around. "What?"

But the man and woman were already gone.


	10. Babysitting

**Humor with Joaquin and the kids.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

><p>"Are you sure?" Joaquin asked when Manolo and Maria first came to him with their request. "It's just the next town over, isn't it? You could probably take her along."<p>

"You know how she gets around strangers," Manolo answered. "She won't be any trouble."

"Couldn't the brothers keep an eye on her?"

Maria raised an eyebrow. "You've got to be kidding."

"Please, _amigo,"_ Manolo said. "One day. We'll be back by evening, I promise."

It all happened so quickly that Joaquin wasn't entirely sure of the details. Something about Manolo and the Rodriguez brothers being asked to play at some concert or whatnot, and about Maria meeting up with an old friend from school to visit an art gallery. The important thing was that it had somehow ended in agreeing to watch Ofelia while they were gone.

The reluctance didn't stem from any problems with the girl, for he had none. It was that the twins had just passed their third year, and he and Ixa together could barely keep them under control. He shuddered at the thought of three toddlers under his roof, no matter how docile one of them might be.

_Oh, get a grip,_ he told himself. _It's not like it'll be you against them. Ixa can help. They listen to her better anyway._

It was such a shame that his wife had the idea to go to the orphanage in Maria's place that day.

* * *

><p>The floor of the parlor seemed more akin to a battlefield moments before the clashing of armies. On one side of the room was Joaquin, his arsenal of weapons neatly laid out at his side: toys, books, blankets, cleaning rags and some spare sets of clothes. On the other side were the children, sitting in a row. Scheming even as they stared up at him with bright, innocent eyes.<p>

He looked around, making sure everything was in its place and not an inch too far to the left. "Okay," he said as he started to pace. "Vin? Gabby? Aunt Maria and Uncle Manolo can't be in town today, so Ofelia's gonna stay here for a while and play with you. Does that sound good?"

They all nodded. _"Sí."_

"And your mom's out working today, so it's gonna be just the four of us." He took a few uncertain breaths. "But that's alright. Because we're going to have fun! Lots of fun!"

Vicente perked up. "Play!"

Joaquin started to turn around. "That's right, whatever you guys want to play…_except that!"_ He flew across the room and grabbed Vicente, who was trying to tug down the red velvet curtains and the heavy rod they were attached to. "I told you we don't play with the curtains, Vin. We have lots of better games. Right, girls?"

He looked behind him as he heard Ofelia's giggling, just in time to see Gabriela walking towards the cabinet holding his bowie knife collection.

From that moment on, he was never off his feet for more than a few seconds at a time. The children's energy seemed to have no bounds, while he found himself quickly growing short of breath as he chased them up and down the halls of the mansion. They had to be fed, then changed out of the clothes they had stained and kept from making another mess while the first one was cleaned up. They grew tired of the toys and of the games he devised for them, finding much more amusement in squabbling amongst each other and needing to be pulled apart. This, Joaquin noted thankfully, seemed to begin wearing them down. In late afternoon, when he lay them down in a row and put the blankets over them, they did not protest. Before long they appeared to be fast asleep, leaving him to finish cleaning.

"Come on," he muttered, rubbing over and over at a stain on the carpet. "It's just cornmeal. It's supposed to come up. Why isn't it coming up…?"

Somehow he found himself stretched out next to the children, lying on his side. His eyelids were drooping shut, and he was content to let them. Within a few minutes, his snores were echoing off the walls.

Gabriela opened one eye, then the other. Pushing off the blankets, she slowly sat up grinning. "Up," she chirped, shaking her brother and her friend. "Up!"

Vicente was quick to respond, while Ofelia rose slowly with a yawn. "What?"

"Papa not up."

They surrounded Joaquin's head, poking his face and watching him twitch. "He needs nap," Ofelia said, nodding with approval.

Vicente scowled. "No nap. Play!" He pushed his father's head, but the man did not budge.

Gabriela looked at Joaquin for a moment, then smiled. "I get Papa up. Then play."

The other two watched her walk towards the wall nearest the front door, the one Joaquin had always kept his back turned away from. "How?" Ofelia asked.

"Funny toys."

"But he's sleepy."

"He get up," the girl answered, dragging a porcelain doll off the lowest shelf. "Funny toys. Funny Papa."

* * *

><p>He thought he felt something brush against his cheek. A soft cloth and a cold surface. He shrugged it off and moved his head, falling back towards his deep sleep. But something was on the other side of him too, tickling his mustache. Now there was a light weight on his chest, followed by another, and several distant voices were chattering in his ears. "Up! Up!"<p>

Joaquin opened his eyes and lifted his head, groaning at how heavy it felt. "Huh? What…?"

Then he was staring into dead, glassy eyes and porcelain weights covering every inch of his skin. And it was then that he learned just how high he could scream.

* * *

><p>"Well," Maria said, "the house is still standing. Guess that's a good sign."<p>

Manolo pushed open the front door. "Joaquin? We're back! How was…" He looked down. "Oh, there you are."

The children sat on the foyer floor, the girls playing with dolls and Vicente swinging around his toy horse. Ofelia's face lit up as the door opened. "Mama! Papa!" She ran forward to hug them both, and her father picked her up.

"Were you good for Uncle Joaquin today?" Maria asked. "Where is he?"

"I'm okay! I'm okay…"

They both stopped and stared as Joaquin came crawling - no, simply dragging himself - into the room. He flopped over, then curled into a ball at the foot of the stairs. "It was fun…so much fun. So many…"

"So many what?"

He twitched and whimpered.

Vicente and Gabriela laughed at the sight. "Papa funny!"

"Er, Joaquin?" Manolo asked. "Maybe we could take care of the twins tomorrow. You know, to make it up to you."

His friend's head shot up and stared at them with bloodshot eyes. _"Save yourselves."_


	11. Bedtime

**More fun with the precious cinnamon rolls that are Manolo and Ofelia.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

><p>"Where <em>aaaaare<em> yoooou?" Manolo suppressed a laugh as he walked around the dining room with exaggerated steps, pretending not to notice the five-year-old hiding under the table. _"Dónde estás,_ Ofelia? It's getting very late."

He heard her giggle from her hiding place and stopped for a moment. "Well," he said as he turned on his heel and began to walk the other way. "I suppose she's just too clever for me." He pulled out a chair and sank into it. "Perhaps I will never see her again. How sad that will be!"

In the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny pair of hands lift up the edge of the the tablecloth and a curious, concerned face begin to peer out. Dropping to his knees, he pulled the cloth up the rest of the way. "Ha! Found you!"

Ofelia gasped before laughing and darting out of his reach. Crawling out the other side of the table, she ran from the room. Her father chased her through the kitchen and into the parlor, laughing as well. He was faster even when out of breath, and when she ducked behind the sofa, he was waiting for her.

_"Epa!"_ he said, scooping Ofelia up in his arms. "You don't want to be too sleepy to visit your grandparents tomorrow, do you?"

"I'm not sleepy!" she answered, even as she suppressed a yawn.

"Are you sure?"

Ofelia scowled. "I don't want to go to bed, Papa!"

Manolo smirked. "Not even if I tell you a story?"

The girl paused, as though thinking it over. "Can I pick the story?"

_"Por supuesto._ Do we have a deal?"

She snuggled against him. "Yes, Papa."

"Then _vamos, princesa!"_ He kissed her nose, then hoisted her onto his shoulders and marched up the stairs while whistling a jaunty tune. "Now which way is it again?"

"Papa, you always forget!"

* * *

><p>By the time they reached Ofelia's bedroom, her reluctance had gone. She let her father brush her hair and tuck her in, then sat up and watched as he went to the bookshelf.<p>

"Alright, which one do you want to hear tonight?" he asked her.

"I don't want a book story."

Manolo turned around. "Oh? What sort of story would you like, then?"

"A story from you, Papa. Mama says you know lots."

He sat on the side of the bed, tapping his chin as he thought. "A story from me…" He looked at his daughter and then out the window, where the silhouette of the church glowed against the moon. "I know the perfect one. Wait here a moment." He left the room, then came back with his guitar. "You're old enough to hear this story now, I think. You'll like it.

"She looked at the guitar with curiosity. "Is it a special story?"

"It's the most special story I know." He sat beside her again. "Do you know what tomorrow is called?"

Ofelia nodded. "The Day of the Dead."

"And do you know what the Day of the Dead is for?"

She thought about it, then shook her head.

"It's the day when we can visit with our loved ones who came before us. They can come up from the Land of the Remembered and be with us again for one night."

"What's the Land of the Remembered?"

He grinned. "Only the most wonderful place you can imagine! It's where the dead go when they have people in the Land of the Living to remember them. They have fiestas every day, and there is always music and colors and happiness."

"It sounds great!"

"It does. But it's not great for everyone." His expression turned grave. "You see, the land of the dead is divided into two kingdoms. One is the Land of the Remembered, and the other is called the Land of the Forgotten. That's where the dead go when there is no one to remember them. It's dark and gray, and those who go there have hardly any hope of getting out again. All they can do is think about how unhappy they are, until they become so sad that they turn to dust. Then they are truly gone."

Ofelia's eyes grew wide, and she hid under her covers. "I don't want to go there, Papa."

"And you shall never have to, _mija." _He took her hand and gently squeezed it. "Now, these two lands each had a god to rule over them. The Land of the Remembered was ruled by a beautiful lady called La Muerte. She was made of sugar and candy, and she believed that humans were pure and good."

"What about the Land of the Forgotten?"

"That place was ruled by a god called Xibalba. He was made of tar and all the other nasty things in the world, and he believed that humans were just as nasty as him."

They both seemed very familiar, Ofelia thought, as though she had seen them in a dream once.

"The story begins a long time ago…"

"How long?"

"Before you were born, and before your mama and I were married."

She gasped. "That _is_ a long time."

"La Muerte and Xibalba loved to make wagers, especially on mortals. It happened that on one Day of the Dead, they decided to make another. They found two boys who were the best of friends, a soldier and a _guitarrista."_

"Like you and Uncle Joaquin!"

_"Exactly_ like me and Uncle Joaquin. They were both friends with a girl, the loveliest you could think of. And even before they were old enough to know what love was, they had both been in love with her. The gods could tell, and so they bet on which boy would marry her. La Muerte bet on the _guitarrista,_ while Xibalba bet on the soldier. If Xibalba won, he would get to rule the Land of the Remembered, so he was determined to win no matter what it took."

"Did the girl know?"

"No, she didn't. None of the mortals knew. Everyone in town wanted the girl to marry the soldier, but she wasn't in love with him. She loved the _guitarrista._ So one morning, on another Day of the Dead, he went to her and asked her to marry him. She almost said yes, too. But Xibalba was watching, and he was crafty…"

Ofelia listened in wonder as he spun the tale: how Xibalba sent a snake whose bite put the girl in a trance, and how her true love gave up his own life because he thought her dead. He found himself in the Land of the Remembered, where he discovered the god's treachery and embarked on a journey to find La Muerte and make things right again. With the help of his family and of new friends, he began writing his own story and overcame his fear of being himself. He even used his music to make amends with the thousands of _toros_ that his bullfighting family had killed. Her father played her the song - he seemed to know all of the songs which the man in the story knew. In the end, he won back his life from Xibalba and returned to the Land of the Living just in time to help his friends fight a fearsome bandit king and save their town. The girl's joy at seeing him again was so boundless that they were wed the same day.

"And from that day on," Manolo finished, "they were all very happy."

Ofelia leaned back on her pillows and smiled. "That was the best story ever, Papa."

"I think so, too."

"But how did you know about it?"

He smirked. "That's a secret. Besides, you might not believe me if I told you."

"I would! I promise!"

Manolo leaned close to her and whispered in her ear. "Even if I told you that I was the _guitarrista?"_

He watched her jaw drop, and her eyes bug out with amazement. "If you want, you can ask Mama if it's true. But in the morning." He kissed her forehead. _"Buenas noches."_

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him._ "Te amo, Papa."_

_"Te amo también."_ He stood, put out the light and left the door ajar as he went away.

Sleep took the girl not long after, in spite of her racing mind. When she drifted off, she dreamt of faraway realms and adventures, and of a brave father who seemed mightier than any god.


	12. Glasses

**More cute stuff with the kids.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

><p>It didn't take long for Manolo and Maria to notice that something was off in the way their daughter looked at a book. She always held it close to her face, squinting before she sounded out the words or commented on the pictures. When they asked her about it, she told them it was fine, that her eyes had always been that way. This, of course, merely spurred them to further action.<p>

Things happened rather quickly after that, Ofelia mused, and now here she was.

At first she thought she would never grow used to how the round spectacles felt on her face. The frame was thin, silver-colored wire that rested on her nose and hooked around her ears. She scrunched up her nose, feeling the new weight constrain it. The first few times she tried to take them off, she pulled forward rather than up and found them stuck.

Then there were the lenses. Thick circles of glass which made her eyes seem even larger than they already were. When she first saw her reflection while wearing them, she frowned. "I look funny."

Maria hugged her from behind, resting her head on her shoulder. "I think they look very nice on you, _mija._ You'll get used to them. You can see much better now, can't you?"

That part was wonderful beyond description. All this time, and she'd had no idea what she had been missing out on. But now she could see everything: her parents' smiling faces, the vibrant colors of her mother's paintings, the words that leapt out at her from the pages of her books. She stayed inside for days catching up on her reading.

Of course, that was not the only reason she confined herself.

She had gotten the glasses a few days before the end of the school year, and in those few short days, the other children had managed to cram in enough mockery to make up for all the lost time. There were a number of names - "four eyes," "bug face," "blind bat." They would sneak up behind her and snatch them off her face, then cackle as she tried to grab them back or stumble around looking for them. She took them off and hid them whenever she could, glumly retreating back to the blurry, lesser reality.

She had thought herself safe with the onset of summer and the freedom it brought. Then she could wear the spectacles to her heart's content and feel no fear of shame. But the weather was fair, and her parents thought some time outside would do her good. She did as they wished and went out to the square, taking a book with her. Perhaps she could find a hiding spot, avoid the storm that would brew forth if she showed her face.

That had been the plan, anyway.

* * *

><p><em>"Oye!<em> Bug face!"

Ofelia slumped against the stones of the fountain basin, pulling her book closer to her face.

Clacking footsteps stalked towards her. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, bug face."

She looked up into the smug visage of the girl standing above her. _"Hola,_ Elena."

All the children in the square were crowding around the two of them now, eager to see what the torment of the day would be. "We haven't seen you since school, Ofelia."

"I've been busy."

"Why don't you play with us?" Elena suggested, smirking. "We can play tag. You'll be it."

She reached for the glasses. Ofelia scrambled out of her reach, only to bump into several boys that were boxing her in. "Please leave me alone…"

"And why would we do that?"

"Because she can send ghosts after you!"

The mob turned around. A boy and girl stood atop a pile of crates, brandishing wooden swords as they looked down on the group.

Elena scowled. "She can't do that!"

"Oh, she can." Gabriela jumped down from her perch and ambled towards the others, her blue eyes sparkling as her boots clicked on the cobblestones. "Didn't she tell you? Those are magic glasses. She can see the dead when she wears them, and they only work on her!"

"Prove it!"

"I bet there's lots of spirits here right now," Vicente declared, cutting through the crowd to help Ofelia up. "Tell us who you see, _amiga!"_

Ofelia pushed the spectacles back up her nose. "I see…" She gasped as she craned her neck back, pretending to look at something very large. "I see Chakal! He's right behind you!"

Gabriela abruptly flung herself to the ground, writhing in apparent pain. "He's got me! He's gonna squish me!"

Ofelia and Vicente held back their giggles at the scene, but it seemed sufficient for the other children. They ran from the square, shrieking and crying.

Gabriela's shouts dissolved into laughter as she got back to her feet. "Did you like that? It was my idea."

"But you know I don't need the - "

_"Sí,"_ Vicente said. "But now they won't bother you, right?"

She nodded, then hugged them both. _"Gracias."_

Gabriela broke free and raised her sword again. "So, can we play now?"

"I'd like that."

"Then it's all up to you!" Gabriela said as she and Vicente took a fighting stance. "Tell us where the ghosts are!"

Ofelia laughed and climbed onto the steps of the fountain. "There's a mean bandit right beside you! To the left! No, Vicente's left!"

The twins swung and jabbed their swords at the air, and the three amigos battled the afternoon away.


	13. Like Father, Like Son

**Joaquin and Vicente having a little bonding time.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

><p>"What's on Papa's eye?" Vicente asked his mother as he lay stretched out on the sitting room floor one afternoon.<p>

Ixa glanced up from her sewing. "An eyepatch."

"Why's he have it?"

"He gave up his eye many years ago, and he wears the patch to cover the wound."

The boy considered this for a moment. "Can I have an eyepatch too?"

"You have no need for one, _mijo."_

Vicente said no more, for he had gone deep into thought. It all became very logical, at least in his mind: if his father wore an eyepatch because he needed one, then if he wanted one to match, then he would need to have one as well.

First he sprinkled dust and sand in his eye, hoping that would do the trick, but his mother found him and marched him inside to wash it out. He rubbed in the soap as deeply as he could in spite of how much it stung. His vision was watery for a time, but it cleared up soon afterwards.

"I could punch you!" Gabriela offered cheerfully.

"No thanks." Not even in this moment of desperation would he stoop so low. Besides, a black eye would heal. There had to be something more…permanent.

* * *

><p><em>"Buenas noches!"<em> Joaquin called out as he walked through his front door and saw Ixa sitting in the parlor. "Sorry I'm late. They needed help cleaning up the market. Some huge mess there! Wagons turned over and everything. A couple stalls, too."

"I know," she answered.

"You saw what happened?"

"I heard all about it from Señor Olmos when he brought Vicente home."

Joaquin bit his lip. "Oh…"

She nodded and motioned for him to sit beside her. "He opened the chicken pen. Tried getting them to follow him, Señor said."

Her husband sank onto the sofa. "What made him think that?"

"He was throwing them pieces of bread. And he had some tied around his eye."

"He had _what?_ Where's he now?"

"Upstairs," Ixa answered. "I told him to wait for you."

"Why me?"

She gave Joaquin a look. "He's been acting strange ever since he asked me about your eyepatch."

"You didn't tell me that."

"I did not think he meant anything more by it." She sighed. "He wouldn't tell me why."

"So you think I should try talking to him?"

"I think that is what he wants."

"…What should I say?"

She scowled at him outright and nodded towards the stairs, so off he went.

The sound of his footsteps echoed through the hall and through his mind as he walked. He thought of what his own father might have done, but that offered no answers. Then he remembered his mother's cold looks, and the general screaming until he was red in the face whenever his charge took a step out of line. Those wouldn't do, not for Vin.

Then again, being too soft wouldn't do either.

He knocked on his son's door, then pushed it open. "You in here, Vin?"

The five-year-old was sprawled across the messy bed, his feet resting on the headboard. When he saw his father, he sat up and looked the other way, hugging his knees.

"Hey," Joaquin said, putting on a smile.

"Hi…"

He sat next to the boy. "I heard you caused some trouble in the market today."

"I won't do it again."

"Well, that's good. But we still need to talk."

Vicente winced, as though bracing for a thunderclap.

"I'm not mad at you, Vin, not really."

"Yes, you are. Señor said you would be."

He raised an eyebrow. "What else did he say?"

The boy curled further into himself. "He said I wasn't good enough for you to be my papa."

Joaquin stiffened and made a mental note to have a very long conversation with the old man next time they crossed paths. Then he forced himself to sigh, and some of the tension drained away as he exhaled. "That isn't true. And I'm not here because of what you did to the market - okay, that's part of it. I'm here because you could have hurt yourself, Vin. You could have hurt a bunch of people. What were you_ thinking?_ You can't just - "

"I was trying to be brave."

He paused, looking at his son in confusion. "What?"

"You're brave." Vicente gestured to the eyepatch, then to his own bruised eye. "I want to be brave, too."

"…Is that what this is about?"

The boy nodded. "I guess I can't."

Joaquin rested his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead. Finally he looked up. "It's not that you can't. It's that you shouldn't have to."

"But - "

"Just listen, alright? I didn't have a choice when I got this. You do."

"But you're a hero, Papa!"

The words silenced Joaquin again. He bit his lip, trying to find his way around the mess of thoughts that had just been brought on.

"I want to be a hero like you," Vicente continued. "With an eyepatch and medals."

"…You know what the funny thing about heroes is?" Joaquin asked him. "There's a lot of kinds. Not all of them have the same things to show for it. Uncle Manolo doesn't have an eyepatch or medals."

Vicente nodded. "But the kind you are is the best."

"No, the kind_ you_ are is the best." He smiled and shook his head when the boy gave him a blank stare. "I wanted to be just like my dad when I was a kid, too. But I couldn't. You know why? Because I wasn't him. It wasn't my fault, that's just the way it was. I was never a real hero, not until I got out of his shadow. That's what you need to do, Vin." He put an arm around his son. "I don't want you to be_ just_ like me. You need to figure out who you are. Can you do that?"

Vicente paused, then smiled and nodded. "Okay."

"And no more trying to put your eye out."

"So I can't punch him, then?"

_"Mija!"_

The boys looked up to see Gabriela and Ixa standing in the doorway. "It was just an idea," the girl said.

Ixa looked askance at her daughter. "You most certainly may not."

She did a few days later, of course. Once Ixa had finished tending to Vicente's black eye, Joaquin tapped him on the shoulder and gestured towards the bathroom mirror. "I have something for you."

The boy's face lit up as his father slipped a small, black patch embroidered with a green** V** over his eye. "Really?"

Joaquin nodded. "Now you can tell everyone you've got a little bit of me with you, no matter what."

Vicente leapt up and hugged him before running off, stumbling down the stairs as he went. "I'm going to show Señor Olmos!"

He chuckled. "You do that,_ mijo."_


	14. Library

**Fun with the kids.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

><p>The storm clouds came out of nowhere, turning the sky above San Angel a dark gray. A few minutes later, fat raindrops came showering down, staining the cobblestones and soaking the bones of whatever poor souls didn't get inside in time.<p>

Maria saw it coming before the children playing in the garden did. Opening a window, she stuck her head out and called down to them. "Kids! Time to come in!"

Ofelia nodded and hurried for the door. Vicente and Gabriela remained in place, wooden swords still raised, trying to gauge the time it would take to vault over the fence into their own backyard.

"Vin, Gabby, you too," Maria said, beckoning. "You can stay here until it passes."

"We can go home, Señora Sanchez! It's fine!" Gabriela answered, even while dodging raindrops.

"Not if you get caught in this and give your parents another fright."

"But - "

_"Vamos!"_

At that moment, a peal of thunder rattled the sky and sent down a steady stream of rain. Dropping their toys, the twins stumbled across the yard and into the safety of Casa de Sanchez.

* * *

><p>"It's just rain," Gabriela muttered as she and her brother stared out the window.<p>

"Exactly," Maria said. "You don't need to let it ruin your fun."

"We won't." After all, rain didn't disapprove of sword fights in the house when you were visiting.

Maria smiled and went upstairs, sketchbook in hand. The twins waited until she was gone to slide away from the window and onto the parlor floor.

_"Ay,_ Ofelia," Vicente groaned. "How do you manage it?"

Ofelia looked up, a hand still resting on Chuy's head. "What do you mean?"

_"This!"_ he exclaimed, waving his arms. "Your house being so boring!"

"No offense," his sister added.

The older girl simply gave them her usual small smile. "I know what we can do. Something _special."_

Vicente and Gabriela perked up as they looked at her. "Really?"

"Yeah! Come on!" Getting to her feet, she led her friends up the stairs and down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" Vicente asked as the three of them ran past Ofelia's room.

"You'll see."

They skidded to a stop at the end of the hall, in front of a set of double doors. Stretching to reach one of the handles, Ofelia grasped it and pulled the door open. _"This,"_ she said proudly, "is the greatest place in San Angel."

The twins grinned and barreled into the room, only to freeze as soon as they were inside. It was large, probably the largest in the house. A sofa sat in the middle of the floor, next to a side table with a lamp. Colorful rugs covered the polished boards. A fireplace was set in the east wall, beneath one of Maria's paintings. The other three walls were covered in packed bookshelves.

Vicente and Gabriela gaped, but not in awe. "You've got to be kidding!"

Ofelia stifled a laugh as she followed them in. "Oh?"

"This is just a bunch of books," Gabriela said, scowling. "You said this would be fun."

"You don't think books are fun?"

Vicente shuddered and shook his head. _"No es posible!_ Why would you sit around looking at words when you could go play? Or have an adventure!"

Ofelia walked past him, towards one of the lower shelves, and pulled out a book. "Mama's been reading this one to me," she said, flipping through its pages. "You'd like it."

"Are there bandits?"

"No…"

The twins rolled their eyes and started to walk away.

"…It's much worse."

Vicente stopped and turned around, his eyebrows furrowed in surprise. "There's nothing worse than bandits, Ofelia."

"Not even villains who pretend to be heroes?"

Now she had the attention of both twins. "How do they do that?" Gabriela demanded.

"They're in the army." She sat on the sofa, crossing her legs. "They go throughout the land hurting people, and anyone who stands up to them gets thrown in jail."

The twins gaped. "Who's the hero, then?"

"A good bandit," Ofelia answered. "He only robs bad people. He gives what he steals to the poor, and he's the only one brave enough to fight the army men. He calls himself Señor Zorro, but everyone wants to know who he_ really_ is." She turned her attention to the book, seemingly ignoring the twins.

Vicente sat next to her, trying to surreptitiously look at the pages. "So…who is he really?"

"I don't know," she said. "I haven't reached the end yet." Then she looked up and smiled at them. "Would you like to find out with me?"

* * *

><p>Manolo knocked on the library door. <em>"Niños?<em> Are you in here?"

Ofelia's voice came from within. "Yes, Papa!"

Opening the door, he raised his eyebrows and then smiled at the sight before him. The children were huddled together on the sofa, their eyes glued to the book in Ofelia's lap, Vicente and Gabriela sat on either side of her, grappling for the best view, while she tilted the book to help them see. They all looked up as Manolo stepped into the room.

"What is it, Papa?" Ofelia asked.

"I just came to tell you it's starting to get late…"

"We don't have to leave, do we?" Gabriela said, suddenly growing frantic. "We just got to the part where Captain Ramón arrests the Pulidos! We can't stop now!"

"I was going to say that the rain still hasn't let up," Manolo continued. "Your parents said you can spend the night here."

They all nodded. "Can we keep reading the book?"

"As long as you're ready for bed by - "

They drowned him out with their cheers, then promptly returned to the story. Even hours later, when they were supposed to be sound asleep in Ofelia's room, they sat next to the window and whispered to each other as they made out the words by the moonlight.

"Do you have more books like this?" Gabriela asked.

Ofelia smiled victoriously to herself. "Lots."


	15. Cartography

**The twins wreaking havoc.**

**DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, I don't own it.**

* * *

><p>"Gabriela?" Ixa asked, knocking on her daughter's door. "Are you almost ready?"<p>

The girl looked up from her book, drifting back to reality in the process. "Ready for what?"

"For church!"

Gabriela paused, and then her eyes widened. "Yes! I-I mean, almost! Just a minute, Mama!" Throwing the book aside, she ran to grab the frilly Sunday dress hanging on her closet door, wrestle into it, slip on her shoes and hurry out the door.

She and her brother had eagerly lapped up the story Ofelia showed them, and hardly a week had passed before she returned asking about more. Manolo and Maria perfectly happy to open up the contents of the Sanchez library to her: "You can take home a few if you'd like," they even said.

She looked at the shelves with hesitation, rocking back and forth on her feet. "So…which are the good ones?"

Ofelia ran her hands along the spines, eventually pulling out a yellow and green one. "How about this? There's a girl and a _tornado_ and a faraway land. It's an adventure!"

The adventures - those were her favorites. Stories of brave explorers who found themselves in lost realms, sought out treasures and raced around the world.

"Have you ever seen places like this?" she asked her father after church that day, in the midst of an energized ramble about dinosaurs.

He laughed. "No, can't say I have."

_Then I will,_ she thought to herself. _I'll be the first._

Now she only needed a place to start.

* * *

><p>"A map of the town."<p>

"Yes!"

Vicente wrinkled his nose and looked at her askance. "I didn't know you got lost that easy."

"It's not for finding my way. It's for keeping track of what we're going to find." Stacking papers, Gabriela began putting them into a satchel.

"We?"

"There could be a lot of things here we've never seen before, Vin! Maybe even secrets in what we _have_ seen before. We need to go everywhere to make sure we have everything in the right spot. It'll be our first adventure!"  
><em><br>"We?"_

She looked up from the small spyglass she was adjusting. "Aren't you coming?"

"Yeah! But you should have asked first." He grabbed his eye patch and the wooden sword that was resting against the wall, while she slung the satchel's long strap over her shoulder. "So," he continued, "where to first?"

"Somewhere with a good view."

* * *

><p>"You weren't kidding!" Vicente exclaimed, looking down from the ledge of the bell tower. "You can see every house in town from up here…<em>woah!"<em>

Gabriela leapt up and pulled him back to safety by the collar of his shirt. "Watch your feet!"

"What about you?" he asked, pointing to where her inkwell had been just before she'd kicked it off the platform.

"…That's why I brought a pencil."

Two stories below, a group of nuns shrieked in terror as they abruptly and literally found themselves blue in the face.

* * *

><p>Gabriela looked from the statue of Captain Mondragon in the square, then down at the piece of paper in her brother's hands. "Why is a cat eating his face?"<p>

"That's his mustache…"

"And where's his eyes?" She gestured to the two large black holes on the drawing's face.

"Those _are_ his eyes!"

"Looks more like you blew his brains out twice."

"You draw him, then!"

He shoved the small sketch towards her, and she angrily shoved it back. A passing soldier craned his neck to look at them and tripped over a stone, which startled a nearby chicken, which shot into the air and laid an egg out of terror, which fell through a hole in the cantina roof and onto the head of a burly, intoxicated farmer. Legend said it was three days later when the bar fight finally ended.

* * *

><p>"Where'd they go? <em>Where'd they go?"<em>

"There! You can catch them if I throw you!"

"I'm not doing _that!"_

Gabriela sighed and jumped up herself, grasping at the lost papers which the wind swept away from her at the last moment.

Vicente suddenly paused. "Did you hear something?"

"Hurry up!"

He shrugged and ran on, oblivious to the trail of overturned crates, broken carts and collapsed awnings in his and his sister's wake.

* * *

><p>Joaquin looked up as the sitting room door creaked opened, then smiled as the twins marched inside. "I was wondering if you two were ever going to come out of your room today."<p>

"We've been busy, Papa," Gabriela said. She was holding her arms behind her back, and both children had broad smiles plastered on their faces.

"Busy with what?"

Bounding up to him, Gabriela placed a large scroll in his lap and unfurled it. "This!"

They had sketched out the lake and the island, meticulously placing and labeling the squares and rectangles that were each building. There were little drawings here and there, too: chickens, pigs, churros, flowers, faces of friends and family over their houses and their own grinning faces with raised swords in the middle of the square.

Joaquin's jaw dropped. "That is…wow."

"I did half of it!" Vicente chirped.

"It was _my_ idea!"

"Well, good for you, Bry," their father said. "It looks great."

"I'm going to use it when I go on adventures," Gabriela continued. "You think it's a good adventure map?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

They cheered and ran off to show their mother. Joaquin happily shook his head as he watched them go, oblivious to the dull roar from the furious crowd gathering outside the Mondragon house.


End file.
